


There’s Something About Eddie

by cortexikid



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: About rom-coms and handjobs, And basic kitchen hygiene, Eddie Stan and Adrian Mellon were all resurrected because fuck Stephen King, Fix-It, It’s Eddie and Richie’s first Valentine’s Day as a couple, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Richie loves rom-coms and Eddie loves teasing him, They both learn a few things, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/pseuds/cortexikid
Summary: “Hey Rich, what time are we—holy shit.”Richie Tozier slammed his laptop lid closed, bug-eyed.“I wasn’t—it isn’t—it’s porn!”“Really?” Eddie asked with a wry smirk, arms folding across his chest as he shuffled further into the kitchen, “‘Cause it looked like Love Actually.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 215





	There’s Something About Eddie

**Author's Note:**

> *Arrives two days late with a short Valentine’s fic and Starbucks*

“Hey Rich, what time are we—holy shit.”

Richie Tozier slammed his laptop lid closed, bug-eyed, mouth hung open wide enough to catch flies. 

“I wasn’t—it isn’t—it’s porn!”

“Really?” Eddie asked with a wry smirk, arms folding across his chest as he shuffled further into the kitchen clad in his boxers and one of Richie’s sleep-shirts, “‘Cause it looked like _Love Actually_.”

A flush spread from Richie’s chest up to dot along his cheeks as his eyes trailed slowly up Eddie's body, drinking him in. 

“It’s...research.” 

Eddie blinked. 

“Research.”

Richie pushed himself away from the table and darted towards the coffee machine. 

“Y-Yeah, y’know,” he cleared his throat, “it’s...it’s our first Valentine’s Day and—”

“ _Love Actually_ is a Christmas movie though,” Eddie couldn’t help but interject, enjoying his boyfriend’s noticeable embarrassment way too much, “And kinda sad and depressing sometimes.”

Richie whirled around, his _'You’re a Dick, but you’re my Dick'_ mug in hand. 

“ _Love Actually_ taught me everything I ever needed to know about love, Eds. I mean,” he waved his free hand, “is it _technically_ a Christmas movie? Sure. Does it have a creepy stalker storyline where Rick from The Walking Dead wants to bang his BFF’s way-younger wife? Definitely. But, god, when Emma Thompson opens that Joni Mitchell CD? That’s poetic cinema, Eds. ACTING!”

Eddie tilted his head. 

"And what has that taught you exactly? That Joni Mitchell is the perfect gift when you wanna cheat? Should I expect a gift-wrapped copy of—”

Richie gave an indignant squawk, sloshing coffee all over the counter and his hand. 

"Shit, shit, fuck," he grumbled, grabbing paper-towels and wincing over his shoulder. 

"Absolutely not the point I was trying to make, Spagheds. Like I would ever cheat on your sexy, little ass after pining over it for thirty years.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbing the surface-cleaner from under the sink and spraying it over the coffee stain. 

"Damn straight." 

Richie hip checks him. 

"Nothing we do is straight, Kaspbrak." 

Eddie tutted, taking the mug from Richie, putting it down on the counter and clasping his hands, leading him over to the sink. 

"I can't believe Trashmouth Tozier is a closet rom-com fan." 

Richie snorted, watching transfixed as water cascaded down their joined hands, his skin an angry red in contrast to Eddie's dusty tan. 

"I was a closet lot-of-things, Eds. Can you blame me for loving a happy ending?"

Eddie turned his hands over, their fingers brushing under the water.

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you wanna make the obvious joke?" 

"Solid 9.5." 

Eddie shut off the water, grabbing the hand towel off the rack to dry his own hands, before flinging it at Richie's face. 

"I've never liked rom-coms. They're unrealistic."

Richie pulled the towel off his head, snorting.

"You don't watch When _Harry Met Sally_ for the realism, Eds. That's like watching _Magic Mike_ for the intricate exploration of dance." 

"So why watch it then?"

"Channing Tatum's abs." 

"I meant _When Harry Met Sally_ , dickwad." 

"Billy Crystal's abs." 

Eddie gave a pained chuckle, lightly shoving Richie. 

Richie took that opportunity to grab his hand, pulling him gently against him, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stared down at him with a small, private smile.

"I used to watch rom-coms to remind me that love does exist. That...that anyone can find love. Even the quirky, career-woman that is on a first-name basis with her takeout place.” 

_‘And lonely comedians down on their luck’_ went unsaid, but still heard by both men. 

Eddie quirked an eyebrow.

“So basically Meg Ryan in everything.”

“Exactly.” 

Richie leaned down as Eddie leaned up, nibbling on his bottom lip. The latter hummed into the kiss, running his hands up to rest on Richie’s shoulders, squeezing tightly, Eddie’s own _‘I’m allergic 2 mornings’_ t-shirt (that Richie had snatched up off the floor where it had been discarded during some sleepy sex the night before) stretching under his fists. 

“But now...” Richie breathed out as the kiss broke, his eyes still closed, “I watch rom-coms to remind myself just how much better I have it than Meg Ryan, Sandy Bullock or Katherine Heigl.” 

Eddie swept his thumb across Richie’s face, pressing their foreheads together, before cupping Richie’s neck and pulling him back down.

They both stumbled against the kitchen counter as Eddie’s tongue traced Richie's bottom lip. The taller man groaned, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, sliding his hands down Eddie’s bare thighs and hoisting him up to sit beside the sink.

“Un...sanitary,” Eddie gasped in weak protest before diving back in, still clutching the hairs at the nape of his neck tightly in his hand and wrenching him closer. 

Richie slammed his palms onto the counter, either side of Eddie’s thighs as he broke the kiss, sucking and biting along his boyfriend’s throat. 

“No hickeys, Rich,” Eddie warned before letting out a groan, tipping his head back to give him better access despite his words, “no way I’m letting...Stan point them out in front of everybody.” 

Richie hummed, the vibration making Eddie shudder as he lapped along the skin that was marred by fresh goosebumps. 

“Remind me again why we're...spending our first Valentine's Day as a couple with the Losers?” 

Eddie’s head thumped back against the kitchen cabinet, his breath hitching as Richie’s teeth lightly scraped against his collarbone that was exposed from underneath the too-large shirt. 

“B-Because five of seven of us are in town, as well as Don and Adrian, and that never happens,” he struggled to reply as Richie’s hand trailed just above the waistband of his boxers, his fingers brushing against the line of hair above his navel. 

“Rich, we have to leave in like an hour,” he lightly scolded, mostly for show as he hooked his ankles around the back of his boyfriend’s thighs, pulling him even closer, winding his fingers around more of his hair and tugging.

Richie gasped.

“Q-Quickie it is, then,” he murmured against Eddie’s mouth, cupping him through the material.

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed, warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach as Richie gave him a firm squeeze. 

“Later, Spagheds, we have to leave _in like an hour_ ,” Richie parroted, sounding far too smug, “and I'll need a hell of a lot longer to take you apar—” 

Eddie tugged him into a bruising kiss, cutting off his smarmy response.

“S-Shit, Eds,” Richie gasped, his glasses askew from Eddie’s ministrations, holding his arms up for him to pull off his T-shirt and fling it across the room. Before he could remark on the ‘mess’ Eddie was making, Richie moaned, loudly, as his boyfriend’s mouth latched onto his nipple, running his tongue along the risened nub. 

“So what...would our rom-com be called then?” Eddie mumbled, lifting off one nipple to lavish attention on the other as Richie arched his back, “ _‘When Richie Met Eddie_?’ _‘Richie Tozier’s Diary?_ ’”

Richie snorted, “More like, ‘ _Eds and Richie Make A Porno_.’ Or, ‘ _Forgetting and then Remembering Eddie Kaspbrak_.’ Or, ‘ _The 41-Year-Old Vir_ —oh wait, no. That doesn’t apply anymore.” 

Eddie bit a little harder than usual on Richie’s left nipple (knowing it to be the most sensitive), causing him to hiss in a mixture of both pleasure and pain, his preferred ‘sweet-spot.’

Eddie leaned back, catching his eye, “Ha, ha. _Hilarious_. I _did_ sleep with other people before you, you know.” 

A grand total of two. But that didn’t need mentioning.

Richie quirked an eyebrow, “Sure, Eds. But I mean, it’s not like your magic number will be rising any time soon, so it’s—”

“Until I get you a Joni Mitchell CD for Christmas, of course.” 

Richie’s mouth dropped open.

“And Eddie gets off a good one! Ow! Right in the heart!”

He pressed a hand to his chest as if he had been shot.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but teasingly rubbed his thumb right over the nipple he had been just nibbling on, Richie jumping in response. 

“Only we could joke about cheating in the middle of foolin’ around on what is supposed to be the most romantic day of the year,” he chuckled, leaning forward to pepper Richie’s jaw with kisses in silent apology.

Richie brushed the front of his boxers tantalizingly soft one last time before gripping his waist and lifting him off the counter, planting him firmly on the floor and pressing himself against him, eyes fond.

“We’re weirdos, Eddie. Losers. Always have been. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“You’re a sap.” 

Richie pressed harder, their erections lining up, hard and hot through their clothes.

“Yeah. But you like me anyway.”

Eddie bit his lip, stifling a moan. Reaching out blindly, he rummaged in the drawer to his left before emerging victorious with a familiar little bottle.

Richie tilted his head, eyeing the travel-sized lube.

“What?” Eddie asked, eyebrows raised, “Kitchen sex has apparently _become a thing_ , Tozier. Despite my many, many arguments about hygiene. So...I’m just coming prepared.” 

“Hmm. And soon you’ll be just coming,” Richie winked.

A wrinkle formed in between Eddie’s eyebrows.

“Not a day goes by where I’m not amazed that you’re a professional comedian.”

Richie merely shrugged, snatching the bottle from him and squeezing a healthy amount into his palm, smirking, “I know, it’s baffling. And I’ll admit, I can’t argue with your logic, Eds.”

Without another word, he quickly tugged Eddie’s boxers down and wrapped his hand around his boyfriend’s dick, squeezing.

“F-Fuck, Rich,” Eddie gasped, his head falling forward, onto Richie’s shoulder. 

“Again, maybe later, we’re on a time crunch here,” Richie grinned, brushing his thumb across the head, gathering the beads of precum already beginning to pool there.

“Nngh,” Eddie grumbled unintelligently, scrambling at Richie’s sweatpants, tugging at the drawstring. 

“Off, off, want to...feel you.”

Richie, always so ready to give Eddie anything his heart desired, hurriedly helped him shove down the two layers of offending clothing, his hard cock soon freed to bob up towards his stomach. 

Eddie, (who had used that time to slather his own hand in lube,) reached for it eagerly, closing his fingers around the base and edging it closer to Richie’s pumping fist. 

“Together.” 

Their eyes met, Richie rolling his lip between his teeth as he opened up his large palm, closing it over Eddie’s hand on his own cock. They both let out a groan as their skin slid together. They set a brutal pace, pumping their fists rhymically in between snatched, frantic kisses.

The countertop dug into Eddie’s back as Richie crowded him against it, licking into his mouth, his free hand clutching his hip tightly as nothing but the sound of slapping skin and their labored breaths filled the kitchen. 

“Eds, Eds I...I’m gonna—” Richie croaked into the half-inch between their lips, as he felt his orgasm starting to build, bubbling hot in his abdomen. 

“Me too,” Eddie gasped in reply, they both picking up speed and Richie adding in a slight twist to his wrist, just like they both liked that proved to be their undoing. 

“Fuck!”

“Shit!”

They sagged back against the kitchen counter as they came within seconds of one another, their come mixing and painting their fingers in a way that had Eddie’s nose scrunching. 

Richie blindingly reached out with his clean hand and nabbed the towel that he had thrown down, hastily wiping them off.

“Rich, not the hand towel, there’s wipes in the—Jesus!” Eddie scolded far too late as the slightly coarse material ran over his sensitive cock gently.

“It’s my turn to do laundry, Eddie, I got it.” 

With that, Richie gave the towel a half-hearted throw towards the laundry room. 

They both watched as it landed with a heavy splat on the tiled, kitchen floor. 

Richie cringed, slowly turning back to look at Eddie who was gaping at him, eyes glinting.

“You’re absolutely disgusting, Trashmouth. I honestly cannot believe I love you, sometimes.” 

“Trust me, Eds. I can’t believe it either,” he murmured, tone laced with raw honesty, taking it upon himself to pull Eddie’s boxers back up before fixing himself. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, pecking his lips before plodding over and picking up the soiled towel between his thumb and index finger with disgust. 

Richie watched him go, a familiar warmth flooding his chest. 

“Hey, hey, Spagheds...I got it. I know what the title of our rom-com is,” he called after him.

“Please tell me it’s different to our sex tape,” Eddie’s voice wafted in from the laundry room, “‘cause I’m pretty sure ‘Ed _die Got Fingered_ ’ isn’t romantic, even if it is acc—”

“ _There’s Something About Eddie_.”

A beat of silence followed his words. 

Two beats. 

Eddie’s head appeared from around the door.

“Really? The jizz in the hair movie?”

“Yep.”

Eddie frowned.

“And what _is there_ about me, exactly?”

Richie smiled.

“Something. Everything. I've never quite figured out what and I like it that way. Love it, even." 

Their eyes met.

“And I love you, Richie, even if you do throw jizz-covered towels all over the house,” Eddie replied quietly as he walked back into the room, blush flushing his cheeks, he still not quite used to saying the words out loud, even though he had expressed them in a myriad of different ways every single day for the last six months.

And twenty-nine years. 

Richie grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I love you, Eddie Spaghetti. And you know that they say about true love — it lasts a lifetime.”

Eddie squinted up at him.

“Why do I have a feeling that’s a line from a movie?” 

Richie winked. 

“Gotta represent my girl Emma Thompson on Valentine’s Day, Eduardo.” 

“It’s a fucking _Christmas movie_ , Richard!”

* * *

[More Reddie fics here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/works?fandom_id=134900) because I cannot stop myself from writing about these idiots being in love in a myriad of different ways 


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